What Can Be Done
by Hajimemashite
Summary: When Legolas is warned to kill Elladan and Elrohir, will he do it? Will he sacrafice himself to save his friends? What will be the consequences of his choice?
1. Dark Dreams

They were dead.  
  
He knew how they had died, perhaps he had been there but he couldn't say for sure. They had been stabbed, in nearly the same spot, between two ribs.  
  
He knew their names, Elladan and Elrohir, and he knew they were twins.  
  
He noticed their skin, paler than it ever should have been, nearly tinged blue. He noticed the shocked expressions on their faces and the wide pale brown of their eyes. But above all, he noticed the blood. Redder than the sky at sunset, made an even deeper red by the light blue and gold tunics they wore.  
  
He looked down. He saw his hands, the sword clenched at his side. The sword that was covered with blood.  
  
"You killed them." It was a raspy voice, that he knew came with a grotesque burned and scarred face.  
  
Dropping the sword, he screamed.

* * *

"What the -"  
  
"Wake him _up_, Elrohir!"  
  
Legolas awoke to a pair of chocolate-brown eyes staring concernedly at him. He sighed, more out of relief than anything else. "Elrohir." 

The Elf in front of him nodded, his eyebrows raised and eyes wide as he waited for an explanation. "I - it was just a dream. I'm sorry I woke you."  
  
"Truly, just any old dream?" Elrohir sounded disbelieving. His twin, Elladan, glanced suspiciously at Legolas.  
  
"What was your mystery dream about?"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it. Go back to sleep."  
  
Legolas was haunted by this dream, but, as he lay back down under a large oak tree, Elrohir, closer to the Elf, knew he would never tell. Legolas never showed his weaknesses - which in itself was a weakness.  
  
There was a silence, but it was not a comfortable one, as Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas all pretended to fall into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Once Legolas was almost certain Elladan and Elrohir were asleep, he slipped away to think. Several good-sized feet away, he sat down and buried his face in his hands.  
  
Why had that dream come? Tonight?  
  
He couldn't - wouldn't - kill Elrohir, or Elladan. Ever.  
  
He had hurt Aragorn, his best friend. He had stolen from his father. Because he knew if he didn't, the punishment would be ten times worse. Not for him, but for them.  
  
But this?  
  
The dream wasn't, as he had made it out to be to Elrohir, any old dream.  
  
It was a warning. 


	2. Staying Away

Thanks so much for reviewing!

Celebdil-galad and Tinlaure – Thanks! I think that the twins do have gray eyes, but I wanted to use the chocolate thing – it was just one of the crazy things that was stuck in my head. I think you're a little stuck on revenge, lol. . .

Mornflower – thanks!

MysticHeero – I did already start this story, but decided to start it over again, because it was a very, very, very long time since I updated it and there was no point, really, in posting another chapter without starting over because I figured everyone had lost interest at that point. I'll get back to that chapter, don't worry.

Silabrithil – It was. But, well, I guess you can see from MysticHeero why I started over )

Irukapooka – Thanks for reviewing, I'll try to be quicker next time.

Deana – Poor Legolas is right, lol.

* * *

Elladan and Elrohir were practically silent as they packed to leave for Rivendell the next morning, despite the fact that it was a beautiful day, the sun shining from a cloudless sky.  
  
They were nearly ready to leave when Legolas suddenly slammed down the pack he was carrying, standing in front of the twins, his silver-blue eyes shooting sparks. Elladan and Elrohir looked up, with identical shocked expressions on their faces. Legolas could tell, though, that they didn't really want to meet his eyes and he knew that they had been talking about him although he hadn't heard it.  
  
"Stop it! I had a horrible dream. You don't have to treat me like I might break apart any second, with any word you say! You've done you're share of crazier things, like when you got it in your heads to run naked at th-"  
  
Elrohir was laughing, now, surprised at his friend's outburst. Elladan joined in, more at the memory of that particular incident than anything else.  
  
And, for the moment, the tension in the air was gone.  
  
"Legolas!" Aragorn was waiting for them. His blue-green eyes sparkled, and Legolas found it hard not to grin back.  
  
"Estel," he acknowledged, using the man's Elvish name.  
  
"Well hello to you, too." Elrohir entered the wide hall, glaring in mock anger at his human brother. He dropped his heavy pack, kicking it to the side, although it only skittered a few inches.  
  
"Elrohir," Aragorn rolled his eyes and spoke with the tone of an argument that was well worn out. "I haven't seen Legolas in months. I just saw you before you left off for Mirkwood. That was two, three days ago?"  
  
"Eight. Well," Elladan entered, grinning - "At any rate, it was much to long to be away from my darling little brother." He hugged Aragorn forcefully, who backed away, looking suspiciously at the twins.  
  
They laughed, and started for the courtyard. Aragorn shouted to them that he would be there later.  
  
Once they were outside in the warm air, Elrohir flopped onto a sun-soaked white bench. "What are we going to do?"  
  
"I don't know." Legolas, too, sat, the sun shining on his long golden hair. "If you don't mind me saying so, your home is rather boring."  
  
"Compared to the madhouse you live in, perhaps." Elrohir laughed. There was a silence, except for the birds in the trees, which chirped happily.  
  
"Legolas," Elladan said, suddenly, coming out of his thoughts. "Won't you tell us about your dream?"  
  
"No." Legolas said, shortly, as Elrohir glared at Elladan, a warning glance.  
  
"Please?" Elladan wanted to help the Elf. His intentions were, as always, good, but he hadn't the most tactful way of going about it.  
  
"No!" Legolas' slim frame tensed. "No, no, _no_."  
  
"We wouldn't tell anyone!"  
  
Legolas suddenly leapt at Elladan, losing all the calm control that he normally possessed.

"I said," he spat, "no. You don't listen."

Elrohir had somehow managed to grab onto one of Legolas' wrists, and it took most of his strength to contain the lithe Elf, who was fighting like a wildcat.

He needed to make them stay away. If the twins wouldn't stay away, he would have to make them hate him, no matter how much it hurt to do, so that their lives would be spared.  
  
With his free hand, Legolas swung at Elladan. His fist connected with Elladan's cheekbone with a horrible splintering noise. Elladan's head snapped back, his dark hair falling after him as the sheer force of the punch caused him to stumble back a few steps. One hand went to his cheekbone but jerked back quickly with a small cry of pain.  
  
Legolas felt sick. He had just done that, to one of his closest friends?  
  
Elladan was asking himself the same question, watching as Elrohir slowly released Legolas, who slid to the ground, burying his face in his long hands, silently praying that the twins would leave him alone and never go near him again.  
  
"Legolas?" Elladan knelt tentatively next to the Elf.  
  
"I'm sorry, Elladan." Legolas' voice was a hoarse whisper. "I'm so sorry." He shouldn't be apologizing. He shouldn't. They still wanted to be friends with him. It was awful. Because of their loyalty, they might die.  
  
"Don't be, Legolas. It's nothing." In truth, Elladan's cheek was swelling up rather rapidly, and it hurt like hell, but he didn't want Legolas to know that. "I'm fine."  
  
"It's alright." Elladan said again.  
  
The world is full of lies.

* * *

Elrohir always said Elrond could sniff out trouble from miles around, and it turned out to be true. He was waiting for them.  
  
"What happened?" The Elf-lord asked, surveying the trio before him.  
  
"Well, you see ada, we ran into some trouble -" In a few swift steps, the Elf-lord was at his son's side, grasping Elladan's chin and tilting the Elf's face so that the light hit the swelling bruises.  
  
Legolas winced, shutting his eyes briefly.  
  
"What kind of trouble?" Elrond asked, suspiciously.  
  
"It was me," Elrohir spoke up, his warm brown eyes telling Legolas not to say anything. "Elladan and I got into a fight."  
  
"I see." Elrond turned his gaze to Elrohir, identical in appearance to that of his brother - except for one thing. Elrohir did not have any cuts or bruises. He was exactly the same as he had been when they had left. "You certainly got the better of Elladan." he said, the sarcastic undertone in his voice quite evident.  
  
Elrohir nodded.  
  
"I don't think you are telling me the whole truth here." Elrond turned to the third Elf, who met his eyes hesitantly. "Legolas?" 


	3. The Worst of It

If you are reading, please review, it doesn't take long but it means a lot to me!

* * *

Legolas looked desperately from one twin to the other. Both raised their eyebrows at him, telling him to speak with identical expressions. Under many other circumstances, it would have been funny.

"It was . . ." he paused, swallowing. "It was Elrohir." he said finally, ducking his head.

"Yes." Elrohir said firmly. "It was me. Why do you listen to _nothing_ I tell you, ada?"

The Elf-lord turned to Elladan. "And you did not fight back?"

"I was – well, you see –"Absently, Elladan scratched his nose, and looked to Elrohir for support.

"He was taken by surprise." Elrohir filled in, almost grinning with the fluidness of his lies. "I am very quick, you know."

Legolas hoped that the questions would end soon, before Elrohir began inventing flying Oliphaunts and a lone band of orcs attacking, or perhaps an enraged cave troll or two to go along with his deeds.

"Are you?" Elrond raised an eyebrow, glancing at his son with unmasked derision in his tone. "Well, Elrohir, you will see me later for punishment, then. This is not a light matter."

"It's not." Elrohir agreed cheerily. "Not at all."

As Elrond swept up down the hall, Elladan and Elrohir grinned at one another, elated with their success in fooling their father. The three Elves went up the long white stone staircase to Legolas' room, where Aragorn was waiting.

"What happened to you?" he blurted out, studying Elladan with concern. "You look like – well, you look awful."

"It was-"Elrohir began. Legolas made a noise that was undoubtedly angry, and all of them turned to look at him.

"_Me_. It was me." said Legolas bitterly, turning his back on his friends and looking at the beautiful stained-glass window that adorned most of one wall. The bright glass sent bright, floating colors into the room.

"Why?" Aragorn didn't seem angry, simply confused. Elladan and Elrohir looked at Legolas also, surveying him.

When Legolas was silent for several minutes and did not so much as move, Elrohir and Aragorn began to talk in low voices about nothing in particular, as to ease the tension. Elladan, on the other hand, sat next to Legolas, and simply looked at his long-time friend.

"Perhaps it would be easier to speak of it rather than not to," said Elladan quietly, and Legolas shot him a chilly glance.

"And perhaps it would be best not to speak of it at all." Legolas' voice was a low hiss.

"What happened to you, Legolas? Was it the dream?"

"What dream?" Legolas laughed bitterly. "I had no dream. What happened to me was not a nightmare. No. It was a warning."

Elladan was almost afraid to speak, almost afraid that he would make Legolas become silent again. It seemed so odd, that simply a day ago Legolas had been fine and laughing with the twins.

Legolas' eyes had fallen on a small table nearby. It was made of a light wood, and on it rested one of Aragorn's small daggers. Legolas gazed at the dagger for a moment, as though captivated by the scarlet light from the window reflecting off of it. He picked it up with one hand, and ran his thumb along the edge of the blade. Elladan, eyes wide, began to back away.

"Don't, Legolas," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Put it down."

Legolas offered Elladan the blade, almost as though he was asking a question. Elladan took it, and Legolas wrapped his long fingers around Elladan's hand and pulled it to his own throat.

"Kill me, Elladan."

Elladan jerked at the words, but the Elf's grip was strong. Only the dagger moved, cutting into Legolas' hands, but he didn't flinch. Blood dripped onto Elladan's arm, and his breath came in shaky gasps.

"I won't – can't, Legolas please –"

"Save yourself, and Elrohir."

"What – "

"Do it, now"

"No!"

Legolas took the knife and threw it to the ground. It skittered, then stopped, Elladan gaping after it. Legolas walked slowly to the far side of the room, then turned around, an odd sort of finality in his gaze as he looked at all of them.

Then Legolas ran. He ran across the room, and, at the last second, jumped. The glass of the window gave way almost instantly, raining flashes and shades of color. It was almost beautiful in a way, in the split second where the glass shattered and the world was still.

Elladan stood still, his chest heaving as he looked at the spot where Legolas had been standing simply a minute before. _Save yourself, and Elrohir_, he had said.

But _why_?

Elrohir ran from the room, shouting incoherently as he took the stairs five and six at a time, tears already streaming down his high cheekbones.

"Ada! Come quickly! Someone, help! _What are you waiting for_?"

Aragorn peered over the broken window, not caring as shards of glass cut into his skin. Seeing Legolas curled up in a heap, all the strength faded out of him and he slid down the wall to the floor.

The glass twinkled in the sunlight streaming from the open space in the wall, like the splinters of a broken life shattered by dreams.


	4. A Tale is Told

I know it's Monday and I promised (last) Tuesday, but I completely forgot (yes I'm quite busy). So here is the chapter, I made it extra long (for me anyway):

* * *

Elrohir ran down the steps four and five at a time. When he reached the bottom, panting and no longer hoping for any help, he turned to the healing wing and grabbed some bandages – as many as he could carry. He shoved open the doors and went into the bright sunshine.

Kneeling next to his friend, Elrohir quickly checked over the many injuries the Elf had suffered. It appeared that one or both of his legs were broken, and his left arm for sure was. One delicately pointed ear was sliced neatly down the middle, but Elrohir wasn't sure if that was through the ear or just a scratch, and he wasn't about to touch it and make matters worse. The nastiest injury Legolas had suffered was on his head, where a piece of glass was embedded. Shuddering inwardly and crying outwardly, Elrohir warily touched the wound. Legolas mumbled something, and tried drunkenly to stand.

"No, Legolas, you idiot," Elrohir said, tense, but he didn't want to touch the Elf for fear of hurting him more. "Lie _down_."

Legolas looked at Elrohir, unfocused, then slipped in his own blood and fell back into the many pieces of multicolored glass. Swearing, Elrohir dragged Legolas as gently as he could away from the glass. He bandaged all the injuries that he could see as quickly and tightly as he could, talking all the while in order to keep Legolas awake.

"If only –"he swallowed, wrapping Legolas' leg securely, "If only we knew what this is all about. You're stubborn, Thranduillion. And an idiot. And to top it all off, you jump out the window. Jump out the window, indeed." He sighed, but his eyes were filled with tears. "Well, you'd better stay awake. Because I'm not going to wake you up if you're to fall asleep. Aragorn – you do _remember_ Estel? He's up there; I think you can probably see him since you smashed out the whole window. And Elladan. You'd better survive through this, because if you don't then –"he paused for an instant, thinking. "You'd just better. And when I figure out a way to get you inside without leaving half of you behind –"

"Elrohir."

"What?" he said, not entirely sure he had heard Legolas speak at all.

"Do me a favor-"

"What?"

"Be quiet."

* * *

It was two weeks before anyone was allowed, by order of Elrond, to see Legolas. After the two weeks were up, they were only allowed in one at a time. After much pushing and shoving, it was Aragorn who got to go see their friend first.

He entered the room hesitantly, and saw Legolas grinning at him. Relaxing slightly, he went to go sit next to the Elf.

"How do I look?" Legolas asked dryly, his grin lopsided due to the fact that one side of his face was heavily bandaged.

"Not entirely up to your standards, I'm afraid," Aragorn replied. He shifted slightly in the chair. There was an uncomfortable pause. "Legolas," Aragorn began, and took a breath. "I know it isn't high on your list of things to do, but won't you tell me – tell me about what's been bothering you?"

"Actually," Legolas responded quietly, "I was planning on doing that. But then you came in, and I thought – why? There's no need for you to suffer with me."

"I want to know," Aragorn said firmly, and held Legolas' gaze until the Elf looked away.

"Fine." But Aragorn could hear the bitterness in Legolas' voice. He took a breath, a long shaky one that seemed to go on forever, calming himself.

"It started," he began finally, looking at the blanket that covered him rather than at Aragorn, "When I was little. Maybe three or four, very young. A man came. To my father. He was asking for money, said he needed to feed his daughters; he had three. The youngest was my age, but she was only a half-elf. I've only seen her once. My father refused to give the man money, because the whole of Mirkwood was suffering, even us. It was an awful time, for everyone there. Two days later, I was sitting outside, playing with a cat – a really tiny one, maybe a few days old. Black and white, with blue eyes. The man came back, carrying his daughter in his arms.

"She was dead, but at the time I didn't understand. She had starved to death. The man came back outside, after a few minutes, no longer carrying his dead daughter, and asked me if I was the king's son. I answered yes. He took the cat from me, and looked at it. 'Kill it.' he said. Just that. I was so afraid, Estel, because when I refused this man – _monster_, really – took the poor cat and just twisted it in his hands. He left it there until it had finally died an hour later, and I couldn't move, watching it die. It was terrible. Over time, I almost grew used to obeying his orders; it was so much worse if I didn't. Once he – his name, I found, was Düwil - ordered me to steal from my father. I didn't and he stole everything from the weaponry. I could have just stolen something that would have never been noticed, but because I was a coward our guards had to fashion their own weapons for months until new ones could be made. Once he ordered me to hurt you, and because I knew it would be worse for you if I didn't - I did. It was just a bruise, though." he paused, looking at Aragorn as though for forgiveness.

"I should have killed him." he said at length. "But I was afraid. It took awhile, but Düwil started talking to me in my dreams. I was afraid to go to sleep. He told me to steal from the beggar on the street in one dream, but I didn't, thinking I was crazy. The next day the man was robbed of every small thing he owned. And he was dead."

Aragorn sat, horrified. Never in his wildest thoughts about what might be wrong with Legolas had he thought of something like this. But what did this have to do with –

"He ordered me to kill Elladan and Elrohir," Legolas said as though reading Aragorn's mind. "I can't. I _won't_. Elrohir should have just let me die."

"_No_, don't be stupid. He would have gone on whether you're dead or not. Don't say that." Aragorn was breathing again, but barely. "Legolas, how close do you think this, Düwil, is?"

"Close." Legolas' eyes were closed lightly, but he opened them slightly to look at Aragorn. "You're not thinking of going after him!"

"No, but we need to get you away."

"What do you mean, _get me away_?" Legolas sat up, overwrought. "It's not me he's after, at least not this time. He wants Elladan and Elrohir dead; he's going to kill them. You should be _getting them away_, but you're too busy worrying about me. Don't you get it, Estel? _He wants me to suffer_. He won't kill me, at least not yet."

"But if you're not here to know that he is making Elladan and Elrohir suffer, how is he going to make you suffer?"

"He'll know."

"Legolas." Aragorn gripped his friend's shoulders, forcing him to make eye contact. "Either you go to someplace else, or let Elrohir and Elladan die. It's your choice to make."

Shrugging Aragorn's hands off him, Legolas sighed. "Show me where to go, then."

* * *

It was decided, between Elrohir, Elladan and Aragorn, that Legolas would go to an abandoned cabin in the woods. But even if Düwil was to look there, he wouldn't find Legolas; when they were younger, the twins had created a secret room under the bed of the cabin. It was a trap door leading into a room below that was made entirely of stone – it was all the twins could find to use for their hideout. It was safe and warm, but there was still a problem. How would they get the still-injured Legolas there without alerting anyone as to their intentions?

Eventually, Elladan and Elrohir were elected to carry Legolas there, during the night. He had struggled at first, muttering under his breath, but by the time that they had gotten there he was drained of energy.

"So I'm to stay here?" Legolas looked with obvious distaste at the rotting cabin.

"Yes," Elrohir grinned. "But there's a room below. Elladan's spent weeks gathering food and furniture to put in there. You'll find, I think, that he's a rather good decorator."

Elladan whacked his twin, hard, on the arm. "I am not a _decorator_."

They started down the trapdoor ladder, pushing the bed aside – it was just as decomposed as everything else in the cabin – Elladan carrying Legolas, who glanced at him with distrust. Once they reached the bottom, Elladan took some flint from his pocket and struck it on stone, to light a candle. Using this candle he lit all the torches on the wall. There was a large table in the center of the room, new, it appeared, wooden and long. Food covered every inch of it – _lembas_, breads, cheeses, water and wine, along with many other things. There was a bed which Legolas recognized from the room he had been staying in before he'd jumped, and a chair that he didn't recognize. Marveling at the amazing quickness with which they had assembled a near-home, he grinned at them.

"Thank you." It was sincere, and they knew it too. Turning to leave, they were halfway up the ladder when Elladan turned around.

"I didn't know, Legolas," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I – well, I'm sorry I pushed you - to tell me."

Legolas smiled, and hobbled to the chair. "It's alright," and that was all that needed to be said.

Outside, shadows shifted with the wind. And far away, but closer than he was wanted, a man twisted the colors to form a dream.


	5. A Visitor

This time, they were alive. They were laughing, happy, but for this reason he in the dream was not. He wanted them gone, someplace hidden and silent, waiting for the shadows and the threat to pass.

"Why, Legolas, haven't you killed them?"

The voice was bitterly mocking, hoarse but cruel.

He shut his eyes, as though that could drown out the voice, but it echoed in his head. _Why? Why? Why?_ He opened his eyes against his own will as the sky darkened, became an ugly gray.

No more mirthful laughter reached his ears - they were no longer laughing, because the dead don't laugh. Once again he was in that clearing, and they were dead just as before. Only this time, it wasn't him that was holding the sword, and they hadn't just been stabbed cleanly, as before; now they were barely recognizable, and a misshapen, scarred man with long, dull brown hair was laughing. Louder, and louder. . .

* * *

Legolas awoke again, screaming, but his screams hung heavily in the dense silence. Leaning back against the cool blankets, he forced himself to calm down until his breathing was normal. There were no windows, and the trapdoor was shut. Was it night or was it day? There was no way to tell. Fear still tugged at his throat.

Just to satisfy his mind, he stood, ignoring the pain, and lit a candle. With its dim light he examined the room, from corner to corner. Nothing at all seemed out of place. The table was still in the center of the room, and the piles of food were unmoved. The chair was still in place, and not a breath of air seemed out of place.

So why was he so apprehensive?

A noise reached Legolas' ears. He froze, every ounce of him straining to listen. Eyes wide, he heard a ragged breath, and then someone spoke.

"Do you care for a visitor?"

Dropping the candle, Legolas muffled his cry of pain as the hot wax that spilled molded itself to his hand. Menacing darkness threatened his vision, and he backed away slowly, cursing himself silently for not being more aware.

The footsteps came closer.

* * *

Elrohir had made quite a convincing Legolas-shape out of pillows and put it under the blankets; even so, Elrond discovered that his charge was missing within the day. He interrogated his sons for an hour straight. Both were innocent, but simply because they could not be proven guilty. Aragorn had conveniently disappeared, and there was no one to tell where he was.

After Elrond had given up on trying to get information from the twins, Elrohir went outside. He decided against going to see Legolas, because he knew even though it was unlikely his father could still be watching. He sat on a white stone bench, warm from the sun, and closed his eyes.

The stillness was complete, with the exception of the breeze that blew cool air across his face. Utterly relaxed, he was all the more surprised when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and sent him sprawling to the ground.

"Elladan – what the –"he broke off. It wasn't Elladan that looked back at him, wasn't Elladan that placed one heavily booted foot on his shoulder, pinning him down. No, Elrohir had a pretty good guess as to whom this was, and fright made his throat close in. But he took a deep breath, and met the eyes if the man with a steely glance that hid his true feelings.

"Who are you?" he asked rudely, squirming slightly as the boot ground into his shoulder.

The man laughed. His face might have at one time been handsome, but now it was twisted with large scars that made his green eyes look even more hateful.

"You have no idea? Well, that prince was always good at keeping his secrets. I've. . .well, let's just say I'm an _acquaintance_ of the Greenleaf's."

"I know who you are." Elrohir said, slightly offended by the man's obvious low regard of his intelligence, even if he _was _the one being held to the ground. The man –Düwil's - smile grew wider.

"Good. Then tell me," he said, leaning close enough so that Elrohir could smell his rancid breath, "Where is he?"

"I won't." Elrohir said, and in anger Düwil picked him up by the front of his tunic and threw him to the ground. Startled, Elrohir's wide eyes followed the man's hand as he slid a dagger from his boot. Smiling widely and revealing yellowed, cracked teeth Düwil threw it with frightening accuracy. It sunk into the soft leather of Elrohir's boot and continued into his foot. Completely unable to move, Elrohir squeezed his eyes shut, hard, against the pain. He gritted his teeth and looked at the man before him.

"You know I'll never." he said with resolve. There was actually something like amusement glittering deep in his eyes. "No matter what you do to me, it won't change the fact you don't know where he is. You don't know what to do next. You don't even remember why you're doing this anymore. The only thing you do know . . ." Elrohir grinned lopsidedly. "Is that this time, Düwil my friend, you lose."

Now angered to a blind rage, the man strode over to Elrohir, who swallowed hard and braced himself for more pain. Düwil grasped the dagger and pulled it out of Elrohir's foot – Elrohir gasped and tried desperately to kick out, blood drops flying in all directions. Tossing the dagger aside, Düwil kicked at every part of Elrohir he could reach. It wasn't until he'd heard several sickening snaps that he backed away, breathing hard and still glaring.

One of Elrohir's arms hung out at an odd angle, his hand twitching. The light gray bone protruded from his elbow, and shuddering Elrohir stared at it, then gave a small whimper and closed his eyes.

"I won't tell you."

"Well." The man regarded Elrohir with something like respect. But then it stiffened into cruelty. "I was never one for bargaining. But I'll tell you what : I'll kill both that precious twin of yours and the man you call Estel, in addition to the Greenleaf, if you don't tell me where he is."

Elrohir took a shaky breath. The silence lasted for several minutes. When Elrohir spoke, it was barely audible.

"I'll show you."


	6. Even If

Düwil seemed pleased with Elrohir's answer. He left Elrohir where he was and strode towards the doors as easily as though it was his own home.

Elrohir stayed on the ground, burying his face in the grass as pain throbbed up his side and screamed through his arm. He shut his eyes, briefly, but opened them wide again when he heard someone returning.

Gritting his teeth, he turned. Düwil was dragging Elladan over. His twin's arms were twisted around to his back, and the man was pushing him along with an occasional stumble.

Düwil shoved Elladan forward, and unable to help it, the Elf fell hard on Elrohir's arm. Blood poured more rapidly than before from the wound and with a moan Elrohir turned to the side and vomited, spitting several times afterward and shaking uncontrollably.

"_What did you do to him?!_" Elladan was livid. He stood and took several menacing steps toward Düwil, but with easy grace he flicked yet another knife out and held it to Elrohir's throat. "One more move, Elf," he said quietly, "Just one more step and I kill him. That's what you're looking at if you even try anything."

Elladan froze and then, weakly, held up both hands in a sign of surrender.

"Now you'll show me where your dear friend Legolas is hiding. And if either of you is uncooperative, I'll kill the other."

It was a desperate blackmail, but it was driven by fear and it worked.

Elrohir leaned heavily on Elladan, and they slowly limped. "He had me tied up," Elladan said quietly, while uselessly trying to stop the flow of blood from Elrohir's arm. "But he didn't hurt me at all. You look awful," he said, knowing that his twin would know it wasn't meant as an insult but as a sort of sympathy.

"I feel worse." Elrohir said in a whisper. "I'm killing Legolas, you realize this? He'll probably kill us anyway, and we're just leading him to Legolas and allowing him to take yet another life. But. . ." his voice faded. "I just couldn't ever stand to see you die, even if –"he swallowed, and through all the guilt he spoke. "It would mean seeing Legolas die."

* * *

Legolas squinted uselessly, but his fear was now turning to annoyance and anger as quickly as it had overwhelmed him. He had recognized the voice, and it belonged to none other than Aragorn.

"You –"he snapped in the darkness. "You'd better get away now. Because if I find you . . . you _idiot_, I didn't know who you were!" He didn't add who he thought it was – Düwil – but Aragorn laughed. Legolas heard the sound of stone rubbing on stone and then a candle was lit.

"You shouldn't worry so much."

"_I –"_Legolas sputtered. "I shouldn't_ worry _so much?" He shook his head, at a loss for words even though he was comforted by the presence of his friend. He paused. "Is it nighttime?"

"No." Aragorn laughed again. "I thought you would be awake, but you really can't tell what time it is in here, can you."

"Not at all –"Legolas agreed, but was cut off as there was a scrabbling on the trap door. Slowly, the door swung open.


	7. Evening

I'm really, really sorry. It's just been truly busy around my house lately, with some stuff going on, and Christmas and then New Year. Not that anyone cares about my excuses, but I thought I'd just apologize, and I really am sorry.

---

* * *

In the dim, flickering light of the candle, Legolas saw before Aragorn that it was Elladan, and rose to meet his friend, who looked pale.

"Go," Elladan said, his voice not even a whisper, shooting a terrified glance over his shoulder. "There's a wall, over there. It moves. You can hide in that room – for however long it takes. Düwil sent me to look for you, but he has Elrohir. I can't go with you but go_, now_." He took a breath and shoved them towards the wall. "They're not here!" He shouted up the trapdoor, shooting them a warning glance and climbing back up the ladder only when he saw that the wall was sliding shut again.

Legolas breathed in and pressed his one of his pointed ears to the wall, trying to hear anything. He thought, briefly, that he heard muffled curses and a cry of pain, but he couldn't be sure. Sighing, he sat down with his back to one wall, facing Aragorn who looked just as frightened as Legolas felt.

"When did the twins build this?" He asked quietly, curious, but also to take his mind off of just _waiting_.

"I don't know," Aragorn replied, frowning slightly in thought. "Before I was born. A thousand years ago, maybe more."

Legolas nodded. "What will he do to them?" He asked finally, not expecting an answer. He buried his face in his hands. "It's my fault."

Aragorn didn't argue.

---

* * *

Elrohir fought valiantly, actually bringing down two of the men that were allied with Düwil before being hit hard on the head with a water jug and collapsing into a heap on the ground. Elladan struggled indignantly against the man who held him by the arms, trying to get to his twin, but to no avail. The men simply laughed and threw Elrohir onto the back of a horse.

There were too many men for Elladan to even think of defeating them all – obviously Düwil was either very persuasive or very rich. He strode into the middle of the throng, announcing, "We are going to Mirkwood. I have two hundred men waiting for us there, under the command of my very dear Lostore. I think you all know who she is." He grinned with cracked teeth.

"When we arrive, we will go to the palace and kill the guards. Then we will enter, but only one at a time, once an hour, defeating as many Elves asyou can beforeyou are killed. Or your hour is up. Remember, men, what you are paid for. I will give our visitors to Lostore – a gift."

So he _was_ rich, and these were his hired assassins. Elladan glared at the man. It was in a way a brilliant plan; if they were all to go in at once Mirkwood's army would crush them instantly. Instead, they would think that the threat was over when one man was defeated, and then it would all begin again. It would perhaps only take fifty men to accomplish the task.

The man shoved Elladan and they began their walk towards doom.

---

* * *

When they arrived at Mirkwood – Elladan was not sure how many days it took – Düwil heaved a weak, pale Elrohir to his feet and pushed him towards his brother. Elladan caught Elrohir by the shoulders; Elrohir's gritted teeth told Elladan how much pain he was in.

"Hold on," Elladan whispered, as a woman walked up to them. She was obviously Lostore. She had deep brown eyes, and tanned skin. On her belt were several gruesome things. Elladan could only see a few, but among the dangling objects were several fingers, locks of hair and even what appeared to be a rotting eyeball.

Elrohir gagged and turned, vomiting into the ground as the stench reached him, Elladan still gripping his shoulders.

"You," she said, her voice just as cold and cruel as the rest of her, "Are coming with me. I'm going to tell you what will happen to you so that you have no questions. I will kill you both, but I will kill you," she pointed at Elladan, "First so that your twin with the weak stomach will watch you die."

In the distance, they could hear the shouts of the Mirkwood guards. And then, silence.

Elladan glowered, practically spitting with rage. "You won't," he hissed. "I'll kill you with my bare hands first."

She laughed a loud, mocking laugh, and, strange as it may seem, it was the truest thing Elladan had ever heard.


	8. Losing Hope

Legolas walked out and blinked in the bright sunlight. There were two men, unconscious, on the ground. Aragorn strode over to one and kicked him. The man stirred, and Legolas shivered, recognizing him as one of the men that had often accompanied Düwil. And Düwil had simply left him behind.

"Where did he take the Elves – the twins?" Aragorn asked clearly, and the man groaned before answering.

"Mirkwood." he forced out in a breath. He was obviously too hurt, both physically and by the fact that Düwil had abandoned him, to care that he was giving away some of his former leader's most valuable secrets.

"And what is he going to do with them? Why did he go to Mirkwood?"

"He's going to have them killed. He went to Mirkwood in order to destroy it."

Legolas froze. He saw Aragorn turning from the man, leaving him on the ground where he lay, but turned and started to walk away.

"Legolas, wait!"

Legolas ignored his friend, not looking back.

"Don't give up hope."

Legolas turned around, furious. "How is it that you can say such a thing? Elladan and Elrohir are or will be dead soon! My home will be destroyed, most of my people murdered! My father will be killed! And yet, you, _you_ stand here and tell me _not to give up hope_? Hope will not save Elladan or Elrohir, or my home and everyone in it. What good is it to hope?"

Aragorn regarded Legolas. "They are not dead yet. Your homeland is not yet destroyed, nor your father or your people. If you cannot hope, then I ask you to ride with me to Mirkwood."

Legolas turned back towards the road, blinking back tears and thinking. Finally, he nodded and they continued down the road together, each having renewed hope.

* * *

Elladan and Elrohir followed Lostore without a word. She led them steadily uphill, until they finally reached a ledge; wide, but extremely high up. It overlooked a lake, its cool presence somewhat lifting Elladan's spirits.

Lostore continued walking. Elladan tore his gaze away from the shimmering, calm water and was about to follow, but his eyes caught on Elrohir, who stood, swaying, his face a deathly white. His arm had begun bleeding again, and the pain he was in was obvious.

"Come on, Elrohir," Elladan hissed, keeping one eye on Lostore lest she turn around and see them not following.

"I can't," Elrohir replied haltingly, seeming to have to focus on forming the words. "My arm . . . it's on fire, I feel so – weak and I just don't have any energy left."

Lostore, watching them, spoke in a cold, ringing voice. "You'd better walk, Elf, or your brother gets it." She seemed to have picked up that the twins would sacrifice themselves, but not each other, and she also seemed to enjoy this fact. She strode over to Elladan, wrapping an arm tightly around his neck and holding a knife under his chin.

A split second's decision told Elladan what he needed to do, and another beat told Elrohir what his brother was going to attempt.

"Elladan, no," Elrohir said, but even as the words left his mouth Elladan threw himself backwards. Lostore jerked, the knife slipping and leaving a shallow cut on Elladan's neck, and then fell, her long brown hair streaming behind her.

Elrohir watched in horror as Elladan, off-balance, slipped off the edge not a second after Lostore. There were two splashes, and then a silence that overwhelmed Elrohir.

Elrohir crawled to the edge, listening as hard as he could for any sign of life. He saw Lostore's body, her neck twisted at an angle so irregular she could only be dead; but she soon sunk to the bottom of the lake.

Elrohir dragged himself to his feet, without even caring what he was doing anymore. He limped back the way they had come from.

* * *

Aragorn and Legolas glared at one another.

They had reached Mirkwood without any hassle, and located Düwil quickly. Legolas effortlessly climbed into a tree and listened to the men from above, learning of their plans. They had decided that one of them would go into the palace and warn the guards of what was happening.

The trouble came, however, when they tried to decide who that would be. Aragorn knew it was futile for him to argue, but didn't want Legolas to go in there alone.

"Do you think that they would let you pass? You aren't even an Elf, Estel. I know many of those guards and I can say that they would kill you as soon as look at you. They know me; do you think they would not let their own prince pass?"

Aragorn sighed. "I'm not worried about the guards, Legolas. I'm worried about Düwil. _He's_ the one who would kill anyone as soon as look at them."

"Including you." Legolas grinned, knowing he had won the argument. Aragorn offered him two daggers, similar to the knives that Legolas normally carried. Legolas took them and silently disappeared into the trees.

Aragorn watched the doors, which opened suddenly. One of Düwil's men dashed in, and Aragorn saw Legolas dart in as well. He glanced at Düwil. The man hadn't noticed. Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief which caught in his throat as he heard footsteps behind him.

He spun around and saw a staggering figure, which seemed oddly lopsided. It took him a few seconds to realize who it was – and when he did he ran forward.

"Elrohir!"

Elrohir was cradling one of his arms with a bloody hand. He collapsed to the ground, and Aragorn knelt next to him.

"Let me see that," Aragorn said quietly, and pried the Elf's long hand off the wound.

Elrohir hissed in excruciating pain when Aragorn, looking sympathetic, grasped the bone and some cloth and, holding the arm straight, bound Elrohir's arm tightly and expertly.

"Estel," Elrohir said in a croaking whisper. "Estel, Elladan –" he broke off.

"Elladan what?" Aragorn noticed suddenly the unusual absence of Elladan. It was not typical for one twin to be without the other, they were so close.

"Elladan. . .is dead," Elrohir said, his voice broken. "He fell, Estel, down into the lake. He – he just didn't come back up."

Aragorn studied Elrohir closely, opening his mouth in shock. "Are you sure?" he asked carefully.

"Yes," Elrohir choked. "Lostore fell, her neck – her _neck_ was just . . . and Elladan, fell, and never came back up. . ."

Aragorn felt a deep sense of sorrow, mingled with defeat. So Legolas was right. What was there to hope for, anyway, when everything they had done was really for nothing?

Legolas suddenly appeared, dropping down nearly silently from the trees that he had chosen to make his escape from.

"Elrohir," Legolas grinned, which seemed so oddly out of place that Aragorn felt a sudden rush of anger to his friend. "I warned them about Düwil. They told me that you and Elladan were taken away. . .where is Elladan?"

Elrohir sat, not really seeing anything at all, not answering.

"Dead." Aragorn answered bitterly. "Dead, and it's your fault."

"What?" Legolas' face betrayed his hurt bewilderment. He turned to Elrohir as though for support.

"If we had left earlier, we would have been here to save him." Aragorn spat, knowing he was being unfair but not caring.

"I . . ." Legolas trailed off and looked away. He looked from Elrohir to Aragorn, and back again. Elrohir sat numbly and offered nothing, and Aragorn glared. Legolas turned and walked slowly away, letting the knives fall to the ground. Aragorn's hateful glance bore into his back.

Legolas continued walking, not even knowing where he was going, until a cold voice spoke. Several men surrounded him, and Legolas flinched when he recognized the voice.

"You don't know how long I've been looking for you."


	9. Reunited

"I have a pretty good guess," Legolas answered, turning around slowly to face Düwil. "Since two months ago when I went to Rivendell and you could no longer hound me everywhere I went."

He didn't even care when Düwil nodded to one of the men, who struck out with a large wooden stick, hitting him in the ankles and bringing him to his knees.

"What is it that you want, Düwil? Do you want me dead? Do you want me to suffer? Because I can tell you this: nothing you do will touch me anymore."

Düwil paused, but then nodded to another one of his men, who notched an arrow with precision and let it fly into Legolas' arm. Legolas didn't flinch, and some of the men began muttering.

"You can't have it, Düwil; you can't have her back, she's dead."

Another blow.

"Let me tell you what it is that I want."

A knife, deep into his thigh.

"I want you dead."

Legolas pulled the knife from his leg, grimacing at the amount of pain it caused. The men were again whispering, and some backed away while others simply watched. Legolas heard one of the men murmur "Devil," and advanced towards Düwil, who had fear in his eyes even though Legolas was limping heavily.

"I'll kill you," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "And do you want to know why? Because Elladan is dead. Because you ruined Elrohir, you ruined Estel, you ruined me. You killed the beggar, the children, even the cat, and you didn't blink. Do you think that's what she would have wanted, Düwil? Do you think that your little daughter would have wanted you to _destroy_ countless lives? _Do you_? Do you think you're being brave, being noble? No, you're a coward."

There was a silence. Legolas threw down the knife, his loathing obvious.

"Kill me, then," he said. "I don't care any longer." He paused, and then added bitterly, "It's what your daughter would have wanted."

Düwil hesitated for the first time, studying Legolas, almost as though he was confused. Then he slowly unsheathed his sword and advanced towards the Elf, who didn't as much as blink.

Düwil raised the sword.

* * *

As the blade arced towards Legolas' neck, it suddenly swerved, digging into the ground. On Düwil's back was an Elf, who slowly backed away, looking at his hands, one of which was covered with blood, the other clutching a dagger. The men took one look at this second "devil" and ran for all they were worth. Legolas regarded the Elf. One of his arms was twisted to an odd angle.

"Elrohir. . .?"

Legolas paused. Something wasn't right. Elrohir had broken his right arm, and this . . . was the left arm. The truth dawned on him slowly, and he hardly dared believe it.

"Elladan?"

The Elf attempted a smile, but one swollen cheek made it hard. Legolas felt such a strong relief, he sank to the ground. "You have to go find Elrohir," he managed finally. "And Estel –"

"I already have," said Elladan, effortlessly taking the knife and, stepping over him, cut Düwil's throat a second time when the man made as though to get up.

Legolas watched, repulsed, and then turned and threw up everything he had eaten that day.

"Estel is-" Elladan broke off, seeing Aragorn and Elrohir themselves walk up.

Aragorn embraced Legolas, apologizing profusely and only backing away when Elrohir pried the man away from the injured Elf. "He gets it," Elrohir said.

Elladan spoke. "We have to get someplace where you and Legolas can be treated," he said, glancing at Aragorn, who was the only uninjured one among them. He grinned. "Estel can carry your packs, don't worry about that."

And, reunited once again, they started back to Mirkwood.


	10. The End

Düwil's plan for destruction had fallen to an abrupt end; only three Elves had been killed. Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir were forced to rest for weeks.

Elladan healed first, and the only thing that spoke of the ordeal was the fading bruise on his cheek.

Elrohir got out of bed on a clear, cool morning. His arm could now be moved without pain, and he could move easily also. He walked out, and Aragorn watched as the Elf grabbed a bow off of the bedside table and strode outside. He knew what Elrohir was going to try to do.

Elrohir had formerly been one of the best archers that either Rivendell or Mirkwood had ever seen. Now it was to be determined if he still was. He walked out to an empty field, Aragorn watching from a window.

The man watched, holding his breath as Elrohir notched the arrow, aiming for a tree. He let the arrow fly, and stared until it fell at least twenty feet from the target. Elrohir, his disappointment obvious, took a dagger and threw it at the tree. It landed dead center. Elrohir threw another, and another, and all of them stuck in the bark.

A few minutes later, Elrohir walked into the room, grinning. He knew Aragorn had been watching. "I think I quite like the knives better, anyway," he said. Aragorn smiled back.

* * *

Legolas was able to get out of bed a few weeks after Elrohir discovered his new talent. He walked with a heavy limp, still, but the scars from the glass were fading, with the exception of one that went down the middle of one of his ears.

One of the healers predicted it would stay there for good, and Legolas was somehow glad that this was the only thing to remind him of Düwil.

Elladan, Elrohir and Aragorn left a little over a month later, to return to Imladris. Legolas saw them outside, and they all thanked him for the adventure, considerably sarcastic.

As the twins and Aragorn rode away, something in the courtyard caught Legolas' eye. He walked over, and picked up a tiny cat, black and white, with blue eyes.

Legolas carried it towards the doors, finally leaving the past behind him.

* * *

Okay, I know I was really bad at updating this, and that it really wasn't that good. But I'm writing a new story, about...well, I'm writing a new story. It should be finished sometime next week and then I'll post the chapters every other day. So keep checking back, I know the first chapter will be out by the 17th, and after that every other day (not including weekends, I can't post on weekends or on days when I don't have classes. So I can't post the week after next. . . the 20 somethingish week? But that's the only week I can't.) Thanks.


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